


Over the Top

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: дезинформация [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Thor is Covered in Muscles, Tony is Confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time James kissed him, he was mid-sentence, didn’t have time to process what was happening, and went so far as to attempt to continue the explanation of why it was a colossally bad idea to arm wrestle Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Top

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you have context, [Over the Top](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Over_the_Top_\(film\)) is a movie starring Stallone as a long-haul truck driver who tries to win back his alienated son while becoming a champion arm wrestler. For some reason, I’m convinced Clint would want Thor and Bucky to watch this with him.
> 
> If you’re into timelines, this takes place after _Scotch_.

The first time James kissed him, he was mid-sentence, didn’t have time to process what was happening, and went so far as to attempt to continue the explanation of why it was a _colossally_ bad idea to arm wrestle Thor. 

“Like, to the power of Pi bad…”

But James just used that as an opening to drag his teeth across Tony’s lower lip, then changed his angle of attack, sliding his tongue into Tony’s mouth, and that was good, that was _great_ , actually, so Tony just went with it. Because the man’s lips were somehow even softer than they looked, while being firm in the best possible way, the way that meant the kiss definitely wasn’t an accident, or some clever ploy to make him shut up, but was in fact a strategic seduction strike on Tony.

Tony hadn’t been anticipating the kiss—obviously—and so he was all wide eyes and hands up in the air where he’d been miming arm wrestling, trying to use the fingers of his other hand to better illustrate the terrible electric death that would shoot through James’s arm if Thor came close to losing.

For the record, it wouldn’t have be on purpose, Thor wasn’t a bad loser, it was just he sometimes kinda forgot that he came with a warning label for a reason. Tony still hadn’t gotten around to fixing Clint’s Wii ( _because he was planning on building him a shock resistant platform neutral gaming station of ultimate domination instead_ ) from the time Thor accidentally fried the shit out of it after losing a particularly close race in Mario Kart. The prospect of James’s arm being Thor’d was not on Tony’s list of things he wanted to have happening anytime soon. James, however, _was_ on that list, Tony definitely wanted _that_ happening.

So, yeah, he’d just gotten back after two plus weeks of traveling pretty much every-fucking-where for Business with a capital B, which had culminated in three ( _long ass, sleepless_ ) days in Tokyo. Because she was a cruel ( _brilliant, wonderful, almost nefariously patient, and terrifyingly effective_ ) taskmaster, Pepper had refused to let him use the suit for travel, wanting to maintain a crystal clear line of demarcation between Avengers Business and Stark Industries Business. Planes, even swank planes equipped with long neglected stripper poles, took for _ever_ to get places, and he was _tired_. And maybe a little tipsy, he’d lost track of how much sake he drank during the flight back from Japan, mostly because of how bored and antsy he had been during the flight.

Tired tipsy Tony trudged through the Tower thinking of tongue twisters, then Twister, then Twisted Sister, checked Twitter, and was almost knocked over by Clint.

“How? How can I not even get through the door yet, and you’re already annoying me?”

“You’re about to thank me, c’mon,” and Clint grabbed him by the arm and pulled him right back into the elevator. He was rubbing his hands together and bouncing on the balls of his feet as the elevator descended to the floor where the gym was housed.

“I’m so unbelievably not in the mood for whatever this is,” Tony sighed dramatically. 

To prove his point, he shoved his phone in Clint’s face, snapped a painfully unflattering photo with the flash on, then texted the photo to Bruce without any accompanying explanation. Clint rubbed frantically at his eyes, and knocked his shoulder against Tony’s in a way that was brotherly enough that Tony actually considered feeling bad about blinding him. Considered, and rejected, mind you, but consideration was involved.

“Seriously, your flash is like fifty times stronger than a normal phone, you asshole, I’m gonna see spots for hours! I thought you’d want to see your boy Bucky get it on with Thor, jeez.”

The bottom dropping out sensation in Tony’s stomach had nothing to do with the tipsiness or the descent of the elevator, and everything to do with the direction his imagination had run with this statement, because he instantly pictured the golden haired, muscled brilliance that is Thor sweeping James up into his arms, reminiscent of the cover of one of those bodice rippers, with like… oiled chests, and tight leather pants. The kind you laced up, right, but the laces would be partially undone. They’d be so tight you’d definitely see the rigid outlines of what was trapped within the confines of muscle hugging leather, and one of Thor’s massive hands would probably be tangled in James’s long hair, all the better to keep him still while Thor _devoured_ him.

In this scenario, James would need to be wearing a billowing white shirt, one that Thor had ripped open, so you would see nipples, and abs, but more importantly the strangely compelling seam of his shoulder where metal meets skin, something that always made Tony’s chest ache with some bizarre combination of sympathy, possessiveness, and curiosity. 

Curiosity is probably a really, really polite way to classify it, because, yeah, it’s perversion, he should be ashamed, because he was definitely a fucked up pervert. Only someone with Big Problems would look at the aftermath of what had been done to James and have the compulsion to trace every ridge and swirl of angry looking scar tissue with their tongue, right? He couldn’t help it, though, whenever he saw it, the arc reactor felt especially big, heavy, and out of place in his chest, and he would think of his own scars, and the hangups he used to have about them. He wanted to show James they were nothing for either of them to be ashamed of, because they were proof of their survivor status, and… _fuck._ Thor wouldn’t want to lick James’s scars, which was probably healthy, but also depressing.

And seriously, what about Jane? She’d be heartbroken, of course she would be, she and Thor had one of those Epic Loves, and that, _that_ was the reason why Tony sort of, kind of, _really_ wanted to smack Clint and make him take it back. It had nothing at _all_ to do with the awful crushed aluminum can feeling that was happening in his chest.

That voice in his head, the one that pretty much always sounded like Howard, it was crowing, couldn’t be happier to point out that _of course_ the first time he leaves the Tower for any prolonged period of time since meeting Barnes the guy was going to instantly realize he could do way, way better than Tony.

Sure, they’d been exchanging text messages, and late night ( _or early morning, depending on which one of them you were and where Tony happened to be at the time_ ) almost pointless, but really kind of nice video chats while he’d been traveling. Maybe James had even fallen asleep during one of them, which meant Tony had spent some time just watching him sleep. In case he had a nightmare, not because of the fascinating transformation sleep had wrought upon his face, and sure, okay, maybe JARVIS had cut the call at some point out of propriety. The whole thing left Tony feeling like the best possible combination of a creepy old man and a lovesick teenager.

Technically, if you were a technical kind of person, it wasn’t even like they’d done more than flirt around each other, so it’s stupid how much he cares. Thor is a good guy, he’s a great guy, and you can’t do much better than the mightiest warrior of Asgard ( _he’s a prince for fuck’s sake!_ ). James had been through enough shit in his life, was still dealing with a lot of it, would be forever, probably, and the last thing he needed was a collection of new problems conveniently packaged in the shape of a man named Tony fucking Stark.

Besides, it wasn’t like they had to stop being friends just because James and Thor had hooked up, he was an adult, capable of maintaining friendships with people regardless of who they slept with. He was still friends with Pepper, who was currently getting horizontal with Happy Hogan, and they’d actually had a whole relationship involving sex and incredibly awkward conversations about _feelings_. Mostly about Tony’s inability to give up being Iron Man, his tendency to sacrifice himself at inconvenient times due to self esteem issues, the drinking, the long hours, the anxiety attacks, and inability to remember Pepper existed sometimes, and her feelings about all that, and yeah, no wonder he’d been dumped, he sucked at relationships. Thor was doing Barnes a favor.

A noise from Tony’s pocket momentarily distracted him, and he yanked out his phone, finding a text message from Bruce awaited.

_My condolences. I’ll be back tomorrow if you need to talk._

Yup, that was definitely a kicked puppy feeling he was experiencing. Maybe he would take Bruce up on the offer, he was the only one who knew Tony had designs on Barnes, and clearly he was a good, sympathetic friend, had probably known about the whole Thor thing and not wanted Tony to bury himself in a bottle while out of town on Business.

_Thanks Brucie, might take you up on that. Must be losing it in my old age, actually thought there was something there. No shame in losing out to a gorgeous demigod. Look how mature I am! Has to be shock. Don’t be mad if I blow something up later when that wears off._

“Hey, J? I need all the suits on lockdown until Bruce gets home.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS replied. “Might I assume this directive does not apply in the case of imminent danger?”

“Yup. Which, also, maybe see if you can scare up some imminent danger, that sounds really good right now.”

“I think that unwise, sir, as Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov are still…”

Before Tony can throw a tantrum about Iron Man’s ability to handle shit solo ( _he did that, like, a lot before the Avengers were a thing, thank you very much, and even after sometimes, and sure that hadn’t turned out great exactly, but_ ), Barton began snapping fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

“Are you okay? Did you not sleep the entire time you were gone or something?” Clint asked, and what stood out was the look of genuine concern in Clint’s eyes. It made Tony suspect that he was doing a shitty job of keeping the devastation off of his face, and out of his voice.

Clint had clearly been waiting for Tony to leave the confines of the elevator in order to go watch Thor and James _get it on_ , which… okay, wait. Now that he was actually stopping to think this through, rather than simply reacting to it, the idea of Clint excitedly dragging him off to the gym of all places in order to watch Thor and Barnes get hot and sweaty and naked with each other seemed really… odd.

Tony rubbed his eyes, growled in frustration, and flung his hands in Barton’s direction, as if this gesture could summon an explanation. “What the hell is happening?”

Clint groaned and slouched theatrically, managing to look exactly like an incredibly put upon six year old who’s had it up to here with stupid adults not ever _getting it_. “Like I told you,” he said slowly, as if Tony was being especially thick, “we watched _Over the Top_!”

It took approximately six-tenths of a second before everything slotted into place in Tony’s mind, and then he was upset for totally different reasons.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Tony all but ran for the gym, the crushing sense of devastation having been unceremoniously shoved off the roof of the Tower ( _have fun with the 93-story drop, sucker!_ ) by relief, because Thor and James weren’t going to be ripping each other’s clothes off anytime soon ( _they better not, anyway_ ), and even though it didn’t change any of the reasons why Tony was ( _definitely_ ) not good enough for Barnes, he was going to happily ignore all of that and allow himself to be selfish.

Mostly though, he was thinking of the charred Wii, and of the beautiful, shiny masterpiece of an arm attached to James’s equally beautiful body. Nope, nope, and definitely nope, no arm wrestling with Thor allowed on Tony’s watch.

“Hey, Arm & Hammer!” he shouted, which thankfully got their attention.

Sure enough, Thor and James had set up a table in the center of the boxing ring, and were busy dragging over folding chairs, because they’d watched _Over the Top_ , so of course someone ( _he bet it was Clint_ ) would have speculated as to who would win in an arm wrestling match between the two of them, which is why they were going to “get it on.”

“Antoshka!”

James’s enthusiastic greeting was almost drowned out by Thor loudly declaring, “The fates have smiled upon us, for our brother returns to witness our mighty game of proving!”

Tony almost tripped over his own feet ( _okay, he definitely stumbled there for a moment, but he caught himself, damn it_ ) because as soon as he saw Tony, James had smiled. Not his normal smile, the little one that felt like a slam dunk triumph when you coaxed it out of him. At least, it had always felt that way to Tony, right up until the first time he saw the _real_ smile, the big one that according to Steve was standard issue for the pre-war Bucky.

Since he’d only seen it three times ( _and yes, he’d kept count, shut up_ ) it was easy for Tony to forget how that particular smile on James’s face was like a suckerpunch ( _whoomp, right to the solar plexus_ ), and so part of why he tripped over his own feet was because he had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“Uh,” was all he managed.

James had already vaulted the ropes of the boxing ring and landed on the floor of the gym in one fluid movement, and so Tony had very little time to regroup before he was up close and personal with that smile, and forced to notice ( _like he did pretty much every time he saw the guy lately_ ) how stupidly pretty James’s eyes were.

“When did you get home?” he asked. 

The affection in his voice combined with the joyous relief Tony was feeling made him want to hug the guy, and thank him for not hooking up with Thor, but that would have been confusing.

“Pretty much just this minute.” 

They just stood there and smiled at each other, and Tony felt his focus slipping away. That would be bad, there had been a point to his running in here, which was… right, eminent danger!

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second, like, out there?” and he hooked a thumb back over his shoulder, shaking his head in the direction of the hallway for added emphasis.

Barnes looked confused for a second, but motioned for Tony to lead the way, and then they were sort of alone in so much that they weren’t standing directly in front of Clint and Thor, which was good enough.

“Right, so, I know I’m occasionally the poster child for bad ideas—pot, kettle, black, all that—but you seriously,” Tony had to stop in order to take a deep breath, because James was smirking at him, those baby blues sparkling behind his dark lashes, his mouth all quirked up to one side.

“Great blue yonder,” Tony exhaled, the words sort of smooshing together as they left his mouth all in a rush. He could feel himself grinning back, or maybe it was leering, whatever. If James was going to smirk, he could leer, and if his voice was pitched a bit lower, sounded suspiciously seductive when he added, “Hi there,” then sobeit.

“Hi yourself.” James stepped closer, grabbed Tony’s necktie, which was loosened but still technically being worn, and began running it through his fingers in a way Tony absolutely approved of. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah?”

James nodded, and Tony waggled his eyebrows, earning himself a little chuckle. “You seemed upset about something when you came in.”

“Right, yes, uh, you can’t—shouldn’t—arm wrestle Thor.”

If anything, James’s smile grew wider, not the epic smile, not a smirk either, but whatever it was it looked good on him. “Are you worried about me?”

“Sure, of course, in a completely logical and not at all fetishitic way,” Tony attempted to clarify, and it seemed like James was standing even closer now, “which involves Thor, and electricity, and your arm; I showed you Clint’s Wii, right?”

“Clint’s _what_?”

“Something Thor decimated, accidentally, in a mighty game of proving, so this is not me being overprotective, or creepy, it’s… serious... okay, you’re going to need to stop being so damned attractive for like _five seconds,_ if you can manage that, like maybe stop biting down on your lip for a start, because _distracting_.”

James stopped with the lip thing, which was a relief, but his eyes were twinkling, like legitimately twinkling, how did someone even do that? This was where Tony decided it would probably be easier to illustrate the aforementioned terrible electric death awaiting James’s arm using hand gestures that, in retrospect, looked suspiciously like he was miming jerking off.

“He’s an unintentional electrical menace, and your arm is one of a kind so, bad idea, really bad...” 

Which was when James finally leaned down to kiss Tony, who was still talking with his arms up awkwardly in front of him, “Like, to the power of Pi bad,” until they weren’t, because he finally got with the program.

Tony heard himself make a noise, a sort of half-desperate, hungry noise, which James seemed to like if him cradling Tony’s face and sucking on his tongue while growling into Tony’s mouth was any indication. They both had their eyes open, which was really hot, because Tony could see the way James’s pupils had dilated, the blue becoming a bright ring around the dark depths of, yeah, definitely arousal in those eyes.

Once he had his bearings, Tony didn’t waste any time, curled his hand possessively around the nape of James’s neck, and kissed back for all he was worth. James whimpered encouragingly as Tony took over, slow, deep, dirty, and promising.

He pushed himself up on his toes, wrapping an arm tightly around James’s waist as the kiss continued, unable to stop cataloging little things, like that James had been eating popcorn, and something peanut buttery, and how strange it was to have to tilt his head up to kiss again. It had been a while since that had happened, since the body pressed against his was all solid muscle, and stubbled jaw.

Mostly, Tony thought how _hot_ his mouth was, and yeah, that his lips were just criminal, that their mouths seemed to fit together really well, and there was just so very much he’d like to do involving those lips, and that tongue.

After a lifetime, they slowly began to pull apart, and Tony grinned wolfishly, struggling to tear his eyes away from the state of James’s mouth, all red, and swollen, and yeah, they definitely needed to do that again, preferably naked.

Then they were standing there, foreheads pressed together, holding on to each other, and Tony sighed contentedly. Unable to help himself, he squirmed closer, nuzzling James’s neck, pressing his stupid, embarrassing smile against warm skin.

“You smell great,” Tony murmured, then, feeling a strange tingling sensation somewhere other than his crotch, added, “Clint’s been watching us make out, hasn’t he?”

The way they were pressed together, Tony could feel the almost inaudible laugh ripple through James’s body, and he liked that, he liked that very much. “Yeah. Do you care?”

Tony shifted so he could kiss James all over again, but didn’t get very far into it, because his phone started beeping at him, and Clint started groaning.

Clint was unphased by catching them sucking face, he had other concerns. “Is arm wrestling happening or not?”

The beeping was a reply from Bruce, and Tony laughed when he read it ( _Your last message makes it sound like Bucky and Thor just got married. Are you okay? What is happening there, and what does Clint’s paparazzi face have to do with it?_ ), because he’d actually forgotten all about sending the picture of Clint to Bruce earlier, which was what had actually prompted the condolences in the first place.

“Tony has concerns, something to do with your wee?”

Tony felt James shift to stand beside him, and grinned when the bionic arm was casually slung around his shoulders, like this whole kissing each other senseless in hallways thing was normal, like they just did this all the time.

“Photo op,” he announced, and leaned up into James so that their faces would both be in frame, mugging for the camera before snapping off a shot of the two of them, which he sent to Bruce.

_Temporary insanity, I’m great, apparently we make out now, even when Clint is watching._

“Shit, I forgot about the Wii,” Clint said, sounding dejected. “Where is it, anyway? I thought you were gonna fix it?”

“You don’t want it, trust me, I’m making you something,” the effect was somewhat ruined when a yawn took control of his face, “way cooler.”

“So, no arm wrestling, no Wii… this sucks. Want to watch _Rocky_? I’ll get Thor.”

James tightened his grip around Tony’s shoulders. “Sure you don’t want to go to sleep?”

Tony grinned up at him. “It’ll be fine, I’ll just fall asleep on you on the couch.”

Which is exactly what he did.


End file.
